


Hedonism

by zalrb



Category: The Originals (TV), The Vampire Diaries (TV)
Genre: Based on a Tumblr Post, Multi, Pre-Threesome, Sexual Tension, Threesome, Threesome - F/M/M, Unresolved Sexual Tension
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-09-25
Updated: 2018-09-26
Packaged: 2019-07-17 12:53:33
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,239
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16096079
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/zalrb/pseuds/zalrb
Summary: Based on a Tumblr post of mine, this potentially multi-chapter fanfiction explores the unspoken tensions within the Klaus/Stefan/Rebekah dynamic, the jealousies and the attractions, the obsessions and the resentments and how all of these emotions result in hedonism and destruction.





	1. A Fateful Encounter

**Author's Note:**

> I don’t know if I’m committed to seeing this through yet so I decided to start at when Klaus and Stefan first meet. Let me know if you guys like it and if you want more in the comments. It should also be noted that I never watched The Originals sober and so Rebekah and Klaus’ backstory before 3x03 in The Vampire Diaries isn’t taken into too much consideration in this possibly multi-chapter fic. Again, let me know what you guys think!

Klaus was bored and that was dangerous. Not for him of course but the people around him, as it then became their duty to entertain him, at which point their lives stopped being their own and became his to control to his satisfaction. Then again, playing with humans wasn’t as fun as it had been in the past, everything felt old now, unexciting.  
The way his sister spoke of this speakeasy, Gloria’s, he’d expected a modicum of amusement. She’d told him it was the best place in Chicago to be and to her credit, she was right. Once he set foot in the bar, he was treated like the king he was; without speaking, the bartender had poured him a whiskey --- not that revolting bathtub gin --- free of charge and kept the shots coming all night. The music was grand and the women beautiful, but Klaus remained unimpressed. Perhaps having to be on constant alert for Mikael ensured he would never find pleasure in the world around him again. Perhaps the twenties simply wasn’t his era and he had to wait a decade to find one that suited him. Either way, he wanted to leave. It was time. And that meant finding Rebekah. He’d avoided intensifying his hearing all night as the mingling sounds of the speakeasy only served to irritate him, but now he honed in on the noise to find his sister. At last he heard her.   
Moaning. Sighing. A man’s voice, husky and aroused.  
It’s beautiful…  
A witch gave it to me. Supposedly it’s magical.  
An anger possessed Klaus, one that was familiar but one that frustrated him. Simply put, whenever Rebekah had a suitor, it aggravated him. Although it was not that simple. He’d told his brothers and Rebekah and even himself that he’d interfered with his sister’s love life, killed the men arrogant enough to think themselves worthy of her, to keep her from a broken heart. But it was more than that. It … it burned him whenever he saw her with another man, it enraged him to think of her keeping someone in her heart who wasn’t him. The thought of her happy without him filled him with bitterness and the thought of her loving another man inspired in him a confused rage powerful enough to drive him to homicide. And he hated it. He hated needing her this much … … wanting her by his side and only by his side as much as he did, but she was his. There was no other way of putting it, she was his and no one else’s and any threat to that fact would promptly be eliminated.   
His fury propelling him, Klaus followed Rebekah’s voice until he found her at a booth, all over a man he couldn’t quite see.  
“It brought me love didn’t it?” she said breathily.   
“It’s late, Rebekah, we’re leaving,” said Klaus, grabbing her. She wrenched her arm out of his grasp and remained sitting.   
“Get off me!”  
Brat.  
The man stood up quickly. “Who is this guy?”   
Fool.  
Rebekah rushed over to the man, standing up to calm him down. “Stefan, don’t. He’ll kill you.” He put his hand on Rebekah’s shoulder. “He’s a lot stronger than he looks.”   
Stefan? As in Salvatore?  
Finally, Klaus regarded the man she’d been carrying on with, and the instant he took him in, he knew that if he still possessed a functioning heart, it would seize to beat at seeing this man’s face.  
It was a peculiar reaction, an immediate one but curious; the possessiveness toward Rebekah lingered but there now existed a resentment that she had met Stefan Salvatore first, that Klaus did not have the pleasure of discovering him himself.   
“So this is this is the famous Stefan Salvatore I’ve been hearing so much about,” said Klaus.   
Their eyes met and Klaus’ intrigue transformed into a feeling he couldn’t name; one that took a hold of him without hesitation. He turned to Rebekah in an attempt to temper the mysterious emotion.   
“You’re right, he does have funny hair,” he said.  
Stefan smirked, his gaze intent on Klaus. There was a strange pull, maybe even ... … an attraction? He didn’t want Rebekah to leave but he also felt the urge to make this man stay, an urge he felt with passion equal to his protectiveness of his date.  
“I’m bored,” said Klaus. “I want to go.”  
Rebekah walked over to Klaus, closing the gap between them. “Then go without me,” she said.  
She resented it with her entire being, the way Klaus thought he could run her life, dictate who she saw, who she loved, she wished to be free of him, with everything she had, she wished to break away from his oppressive rule, and yet could not understand her choice to leave Stefan’s side to communicate her independence. It wasn’t resentment that compelled her to confront Klaus, it was the way Stefan made her feel, yes, that passion, that sheer ardour, but it was also a strange taunt to her brother --- she wanted him to see her with another man, she wanted him angry.  
Rebekah leaned into his face. “I’m not your girlfriend.”  
“No, you’re my sister.” Klaus’ voice got soft, the way it did when he was brimming with rage.   
“And that means,” he continued. “You have to do what I say.”   
Klaus pulled Rebekah to him and turned her so that they were both facing Stefan. He wasn’t quite sure why he did it, if it was because he wanted to keep Stefan from touching her again or if it because he didn’t want Rebekah touching Stefan at all. Both. It was both.  
At that moment, Klaus realized that he did not feel any urge to murder Stefan or to punish Rebekah but that he could only stomach their desire for each other if it was filtered through him. He would have to what bound all three of them together, otherwise he would have to lock Rebekah away again and kill Stefan for denying him.


	2. Invitation

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> As the tension between Stefan, Klaus and Rebekah intensify, will they be able to fight it or will they give in?

Klaus was different tonight, Rebekah observed. He was different with Stefan. He’d only just met him but Rebekah could tell that he was a step beyond intrigued --- captivated, maybe. Spellbound seemed more accurate. He’d decided to join them at their booth, sitting on the opposite side of the table, which was how she knew things were different this time; he hadn’t insisted she come with him and he hadn’t ripped Stefan’s heart out on the spot, two facts that caused Rebekah a surprising amount of confusion.  
The way Klaus looked at Stefan was the way he often looked at her except the desire in his gaze, wherever it came from, didn’t have the same kind of hardness it did when it was directed at her. Rebekah took a sip of her drink. A part of her felt oddly territorial, Stefan was hers and she would not let Nik just come in and take him away like he did everything and everyone else in her life. She’d found happiness again with Stefan, a crazed sort of liveliness that awakened her and she was going to hold onto that with everything she had, Niklaus be damned. But she would be damned if she lost to Stefan, she would sooner snap his neck than let him replace her in Klaus’ heart and seeing the way they looked at each other made her seethe with jealousy. She was there, at Nik’s side, long before Stefan after all.   
“So Stefan, enlighten me. What makes you worthy of an Original like my sister?” said Klaus. “She’s pure vampire and you’re no more than a diluted bloodline.”   
Rebekah rolled her eyes. “Don’t listen to him, Stefan. Nik’s an elitist.”   
But Stefan wasn’t insulted. The question didn’t feel like it was supposed to insult him. He could see Klaus regarding him but there was a playful glint in his eyes, a coyness that made Stefan grin. He wanted to do whatever he could to keep those eyes on him.   
“And where’s the rest of your family?” he countered.  
Klaus laughed. “Well let’s see, I killed most of them.”   
“But not all,” said Rebekah.  
Stefan turned to her, intrigued by her flippant tone. “And you’re OK with that?”   
“We all had a chance to choose a side,” said Rebekah, looking at Klaus.   
Without warning, Stefan found himself looking in on a private moment between the two siblings. Klaus gazed at Rebekah with something like affection but not quite, it was too charged for that.   
“I chose the right one, eventually,” she continued.   
Rebekah slid her gloved palm over Klaus’ bare one until they were holding hands and Stefan wondered how the material felt over Klaus’ skin. The two of them smiled at each other, centuries of secrets between them that Stefan wanted to uncover, wanted to share, wanted to bury himself in ---   
“WHERE THE HELL IS MY WIFE?”   
A man stormed up to their booth. Stefan felt a flicker of irritation. This stupid, insignificant blood bag had interrupted them, had felt entitled enough to disrupt them. Them. But then he relaxed as quickly as he became irritated. It wasn’t this man’s fault, he didn’t know who they were; he was simply in need of some education.   
“I don’t know,” said Stefan. “I give up!”  
“You think you’re so tough? Hiding in your bar, drinking your liquor? A telephone call to Chicago P.D. might set you straight.”   
Klaus quivered in false fear. “Ooh.”   
Rebekah glanced at Stefan and smiled brightly. He had that look on his face, that look he got when he had something deliciously devious planned. Her chest fluttered in excitement to see what he had in store but also to see how Klaus would react to his scheme --- as much as she wanted Stefan to herself, as much as she wanted to break free of as well as be the sole object of Klaus’ possessive eye, she also wanted her brother to continue wanting Stefan as much as she did, to want him badly enough to keep him at their side.   
Stefan summoned the man’s wife, Lila, over to the booth.  
“Oh thank God,” said the man. “We’re leaving!”  
But before they could even take a step, Stefan took the man by the arm and compelled him to sit down next to Klaus while Lila made her way over to him and Rebekah. Staring at the man, Stefan took off Lila’s glove, peaking Klaus’ interest. He understood it, why Rebekah held onto him with such intensity --- it was a high to be around him, a high that took you over completely.  
“Now, Stefan, don’t be mean,” said Rebekah in playful reproach.   
But Stefan took out a pen knife. Klaus swallowed hard, his breathing becoming shallow. His muscles tightened, he felt hot around his collar. This wasn’t exhilaration, this was ---   
Stefan cut Lila’s wrist, the blood dribbling into Rebekah’s martini and Klaus smiled, surprised at his own delight, at the pleasure seeing Stefan exact control made him feel. Rebekah grinned, satisfied and thrilled.  
He could feel it --- their eyes on him. Rebekah’s enjoyment emboldened Stefan, she had a taste for the depraved that frenzied him in the worst possible way, but Klaus … … he had a thirst that Stefan seemed to feel in his core, a yearning for more than simple depravity but a desire to revel in Stefan’s unique form of hedonism. And Stefan wanted him to.   
“I’d like you to join me for a drink,” he said to the man, sliding the bloodied martini over to his side of the table.  
“What kind of sick freaks are you?”   
“I said drink,” said Stefan again, his tone the perfect balance between unconcern and malice.  
The man picked up the glass and started to drink from it, his hand trembling, his eyebrows furrowed in fear and disgust and Klaus’ breath caught in his throat; he adjusted himself to keep his composure but felt the baser part of his nature come to the surface.  
“What’s your name?” said Stefan.  
“Go to hell.”   
Stefan pursed his lips and Klaus laughed. The man’s attempt at bravery was indeed rather amusing but he found himself laughing more in anticipation for what Stefan would do next.  
“Do you want another sip?”  
“Liam. Liam Grant.”  
“Liam Grant!” Stefan exclaimed. Klaus gazed at him. He could watch him forever. He would. He’d make sure of it.  
“Have another sip, Liam,” said Stefan. “Finish it.”   
When Liam drank the last of the martini, choking down his urge to vomit, Stefan turned to Rebekah, his eyes gleaming.   
“What do you think we should do with Liam Grant?”  
She looked at Liam, an eyebrow raised. “I think we should take him home,” she said. “I could use a new pet, it’ll be so much fun.”   
Stefan grinned, dozens of scenarios unfurling in his mind. Sensing his thoughts, Rebekah leaned toward him only for Stefan to lower his head and nuzzle her neck. Lightly, he grazed his lips along her throat, revelling in her scent. Rebekah sighed loudly, in spite of and most likely because of the glare she felt on her back. When Stefan looked upward to gaze at Rebekah, he instead caught Klaus’ eye.   
He moved away from Rebekah, leaning back in his seat, without looking at her or anyone else except for Klaus, and then waited. He didn’t exactly know what he was waiting for but he knew he wouldn’t move, wouldn’t break their gaze until he got it. Neither he nor Klaus said anything, even Rebekah was quiet, and something shifted. A current charged through all three of them, making the air around them hot, making them all hyperaware of one another’s presence, but even through this, Rebekah could sense the pull between the two men on either side of her, the desire separate from her.   
Eyes still on Stefan, Klaus gave his head an imperceptible nod and Stefan exhaled, closing his eyes briefly in a kind of tortured release that caused Klaus’ lips to part. When Stefan opened his eyes again, they were a bloody red. Veins darkened Rebekah’s eyes in response.   
“Let’s go.” He took Rebekah by the hand and Rebekah took Liam by the wrist. She looked over her shoulder to Klaus.  
“I’ll come back to you soon,” she said.   
Klaus watched them leave, his eyebrows furrowed, and sat alone in the booth for a while. He wasn’t sure what Stefan’s look meant, if he appealed to him for permission to take Rebekah home or if he was extending an invitation to join them. Either way, Klaus’ nod was a ‘yes’ and he was plagued with conflict because of it. He couldn’t deny that his skin hummed with anticipation, his blood screamed within his body. He was curious, dangerously curious to know what they were doing --- it agitated him, hardened him. The shame of that was eclipsed by rage. When he actually thought about the possibilities, he was stricken with the urge to kill something.   
What if Stefan bit her? Drank from her. Klaus clenched his jaw at the thought. Suddenly, an image flashed, unbidden, into his mind of Stefan’s fangs piercing Rebekah’s neck, a moan escaping her lips, and he picked up the empty martini glass and threw it against the wall, shattering it. Then he thought about Rebekah’s lips on Stefan, her hands exploring the breadth of his shoulders, the tautness of his chest and felt dismayed and frustrated that she got to do something he couldn’t stop thinking about all night.   
He kicked his foot out, splintering one of the table legs so that the table caved forward.   
No. Quickly, he stood up and left the booth. He couldn’t bear not knowing what was actually happening between them.

Liam wasn’t allowed to speak. He didn’t know why he wasn’t allowed to speak or why he couldn’t even open his mouth despite wanting to, he only knew he wasn’t allowed to say a word. Instead, he sat at the foot of a king bed and watched in silent horror and panic as his captors embraced in front of him.  
Rebekah tore open Stefan’s shirt, ripping it to shreds and he pushed Rebekah against the wall, the painting hung beside them falling to the floor from the force. He kissed her with a violent passion, her fingers curled around his hair, pulling at the strands. Quickly, he tugged her dress straps off her shoulders, kissing her along her neck and Rebekah clutched the back of his head, turning her own to the side to give Stefan more access to more skin. She looked at Liam’s terrified face and smiled. Stefan followed her gaze.  
“I want a taste,” he said, panting.  
Rebekah kissed him again, biting his lower lip. “No,” she teased.   
“Rebekah,” said Stefan dangerously.   
“There’ll be nothing left if you go near him,” she said, kissing his jawline. “And I intend to make him last.”   
She sucked on the bottom of his earlobe and Stefan sighed appreciatively.   
“You’re not much better than I am, you know,” he gasped.  
“Of course I am.”   
Stefan slipped his hand beneath Rebekah’s dress, moving his finger upward and when he found her ache, she mewled.   
“No,” he said, grinning. “You’re not.”   
Rebekah’s eyes fluttered and for a few seconds she didn’t say anything but eventually she found the willpower to push him back.   
“Watch,” she said breathlessly.   
In an instant, she sped over to the bed, sitting behind Liam. With one hand, she kept his head facing forward, looking at Stefan, and then abruptly she bit him on the other side of his neck, making him cry out in pain. Stefan’s upper lip furled and his fangs descended as he watched Rebekah feed; desire and lust raged throughout his body, agitating him.  
He couldn’t take it anymore.   
He sped over to the bed but Rebekah was too quick for him. The second he made to move, she pushed Liam off the bed so that he hit the floor with a thud, and when Stefan reached her, she took him by the shoulders and flipped him onto the bed, pinning him down as she sat astride him.  
She kissed him again, this time Liam’s blood, incensing his own. He grasped the back of her neck bringing her deeper into the embrace. She pulled away and lifted her chin so Stefan could run the tip of his tongue down her throat, licking the blood off her skin. She gripped his arms, skated her fingernails across his chest and stomach.   
“I’m not satisfied,” he murmured into her ear. He sucked the underside of her jaw.  
Rebekah closed her eyes. “Well can’t have that, can we?” she whispered.  
Stefan knew she wouldn’t stop him. Quickly, he climbed off the bed to Liam on the floor and bit into the unspoiled side of his neck. He groaned as he gorged and Rebekah turned to face him, watching him from the bed, and slid a hand beneath the neckline of her dress, sighing loudly.   
Stefan withdrew from Liam’s now lifeless body when he thought he heard a creak, ribbons of blood pooling from his mouth. “Did you hear something?”  
Rebekah furrowed her eyebrows. She had never known Stefan to stop gorging mid-feed. It irritated her as much as it titillated her.  
“Something like what?” she said.   
He shook his head. “Never mind.”   
Rebekah pouted. “I’m starting to feel very neglected, Stefan,” she said.   
Without warning he took her by the wrist and pulled her off the bed onto the floor, her back pressed against Liam’s corpse. He ripped open her dress from the middle.  
“Now we can’t have that, can we?” he said mischievously, unbuttoning his trousers.  
Rebekah giggled and thrust her lips against his, holding him on either side of the face.

He shouldn’t be here, Klaus knew that. He knew his interest went against the laws of man and vampire and for years, centuries, he’d ignored them, he’d relieved the tension through murder, through disposing suitor after suitor, but tonight was different. Everything was different now. Because this interest was as much about him as it was about her. He had to be a part of it in some way; the thought of them without him crazed him.  
Walking further into the apartment, he intensified his hearing and he heard her … panting, whimpering.  
Stefan … Stefan …  
Klaus bit the inside of his lip to keep from sighing. He squeezed his eyes shut, the shame of his reaction a bitter taste at the back of his throat but that shame did not have the decency to keep his skin from flushing with arousal, to keep his hands steady instead of shaking with an irrational fury that it was Stefan’s name on her tongue and not …   
He turned to leave the apartment but found himself speeding toward the bedroom door, quiet as a whisper, and pressing his ear against it to get a better listen. This time he heard him, gasping and sighing. The moans reverberated throughout Klaus’ body, burning him with an ache, and he slid his hand up against the door, briefly imagining it could be Stefan’s chest. His other hand gripped the moulding on the frame, crumbling it.  
Klaus heard Stefan’s low, guttural groan and couldn’t help the moan that escaped him, that mingled with his.  
Stefan looked toward the door and then back at Rebekah. Her expression was unsurprised and slightly impish and Stefan knew then that she had heard a noise earlier, that she knew exactly who caused it, like he did, and pretended not to notice anything at all to allow them all what they wanted while feigning ignorance of its hedonistic nature.  
“Don’t stop,” she whispered.  
If Stefan opened that door then there wouldn’t be any going back. She and Klaus would both know, truly know, what they had known for years; Stefan would never be hers alone again and neither would Klaus. But if the door stayed closed … … if the door stayed closed they could continue in limbo.   
Except Stefan had to see him. He had to see if it was real. He had to know for sure. It was almost a compulsive need. He disentangled from Rebekah and pulled up his trousers as he walked to the door. When he opened it, he and Klaus held each other’s gaze, Stefan lips parted, Klaus’ jaw clenched, an unspoken but recognized longing between them. Klaus opened his mouth to speak but then saw Rebekah in the background.   
The puncture wounds on her neck were healed but the blood droplets remained and everything in his field of vision was suddenly red. Without thinking he sped forward and grabbed her by the throat, standing her up. He didn’t say anything, he couldn’t, the fury choked his words. She stared at him defiantly and yet felt apologetic for a betrayal that shouldn’t have been considered treachery at all. Klaus gritted his teeth, glaring at her, teary-eyed and manic. She was his. She was his. It would work only if ---  
And then Klaus moved so that he was behind Rebekah, her back pressed to his torso almost the way it had been when he and Stefan met for the first time. Klaus paused for a bit, awaiting any resistance, any hesitation at what she had to know would happen next. When none came, when Rebekah reached behind her and took his hand, entwining her fingers with his, Klaus sank his fangs into her neck, causing her to shudder against him. He closed his eyes, cresting in the bliss of her blood, in the ecstasy of her sighs and when he opened them again, he stared at Stefan’s veined face, beckoning him, calling him, wanting him.  
Stefan gaped at the sight in front of him, at the intimacy that was between the two of them but that he also somehow shared in. Yes, this was about power, about control, about Klaus dictating the rules, but it was also an answer. Their stare at the booth had been Stefan extending an invitation after all and this was Klaus accepting it.  
He felt a certain unease and a certain jealousy at the bond the two of them shared, as they certainly didn’t view each other as siblings but as a man and as a woman. But whatever Stefan’s misgivings, they weren’t enough to eclipse the craving that had nettled him all night, that consumed him in this very moment --- the craving for Klaus’ blood. He wanted it even more than he wanted Rebekah’s, the hankering frenzied him more violently than any other lust for blood he’d had over the past few decades. And when Klaus withdrew from Rebekah’s neck, sighing with satiation and gratitude, panting with lust, Stefan rushed forward and grabbed Klaus’ arm, biting into his wrist. Klaus cried out and shuddered, gritting his teeth at the intensity of his reaction, the intensity of the bite. Stefan grunted enthusiastically, the blood making everything in his body sing and scream, bringing him a high he’d never thought imaginable.   
Klaus looked down at Stefan through hooded eyes and then turned his head to Rebekah, so that their faces were only inches away from each other.  
“You won’t drink from him?” she asked, barely contained excitement in her voice.   
Klaus’ eyes fluttered. “Not tonight,” he gasped. “We have an eternity for that.”   
Partly relieved and partly disappointed, Rebekah raised her neck slightly and Klaus sunk into her again.


End file.
